


Superstes Prime

by obeyingthemuse



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Sam, BAMF Sam Witwicky, Don't Judge Me, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Prime!Sam - Freeform, writing style inspired by Joseph Heller's Catch-22
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obeyingthemuse/pseuds/obeyingthemuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam inherits a lot of money, becomes a master of science, and, oh yeah, he's the first human Prime. The life of Superstes Prime, told non-linearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superstes Prime

**Author's Note:**

> While reading Catch-22 in 2011, I had a Transformers plot bunny and text-vomited a whole lot of stuff that could come together like puzzle pieces but in more than one way. Here is the vomit, prettied up for your convenience(?) Please leave a review!

The All Spark's imprint didn't simply _dump_ all that there was to know of astrophysics into Sam's brain. He was aware of time and space travel and the gist of how it worked, but he still had to learn astrophysics in order for the dots to connect and clarify how and why Sam knew what he did. His physics professor was thrilled with Sam's grades and laughed when Sam admitted in confidence, at the proposal of an internship at an aerospace company, that he might not find such an experience very exciting. 

"What science _won't_ bore you, Mr. Witwicky?" the professor asked.

"Political science," Sam confessed.

So the professor, a greying man with a colourful background, pulled out some contacts and found Sam an opportunity at the US embassy in China. Sam interned there for three months with less than a year's worth of learning Chinese and expertly avoided exposing his entire face to the Chinese senators who spoke nothing of Cybertonians but of their interest in "Samuel J. Witwicky" and if he ever existed at all. When asked his opinion, Sam shared an uninteresting, expected story about a global hack prank behind the Fallen's worldwide message, and the politicians fortunately took the cover and interpreted the prank as a failed attempt of radical hackers––who were behind the footage of mysterious robots––in intimidating governments. Upon returning home to Princeton, Sam received a text from an unknown number with only a smiley face. Sam rolled his eyes. _Optimus._

School life continued in like style. Sam's best friend at Princeton was his physics professor, 'Bee would show up once or twice a month to hang out and go on a joyride, and a mysterious benefactor funded the repairs of the parts of the school that had been damaged by Alice's violent pursuit of Sam the beginning of the year, including the library. 

"Exactly how wealthy _are_ you?" Will asked when he learned of Sam's donations to the school. 

"I offered my dad half of our inheritance from Archibald Witwicky," Sam defended, "but he was happy with even an eighth of it, and the most my mom wants is a trailer."

"Attending an expensive college and dying once can influence parents like that."

"But I'm attending on scholarship!" Sam protested. 

How Sam had acquired several figures' worth of money was actually a result from having died––and revived––on the line of duty as a soldier in all but rank, and from the disbandment of Sector Seven. The government finally decided to apologise for the grief that suits had caused for the Witwicky family––and Sam specifically––by sending _more_ suits to Sam while he was in NEST's medbay after Giza in order to inform him that they had taken care of the risks that arose from Sam's personal information being circulated on the internet thanks to the Fallen and that they hoped never to see Sam again.

"The Decepticons' worldwide message is but a global hack prank pulled by cyber conspiracists we have yet to solidly identify but are investigating," the head suit shared the cover story. "Also, with some creative hacking, your social security number has changed; your identity and assets are safe."

"Great," Sam confessed, "but social security numbers don't come from nowhere. Can I even still attend Princeton?"

The men in suits briefly shared looks. "The university will allow you to finish your four years under your new number if you heed to certain added ground rules," the head suit explained carefully. "Also, due to the circumstances, the safest and most affordable solution to the global sharing of your number is to give you a retired, existing one. Your great-great-grandfather's."

"Archibald Witwicky," Sam deadpanned. 

"Your possessions likewise change," the man treaded on. "With the disbandment of Sector Seven last year, ghost funds have been discovered and reorganised as the Cabinet and the President deem appropriate, and Sector Seven has appeared to have taken liberties with the bank accounts of certain vulnerable characters associated with the Sector's subjects of study. The remains of Captain Archibald Witwicky's inheritance are yours to decide what to do with."

Sam had wondered why his ancestor's belongings held less value than eBay found noteworthy. It seemed that Sector Seven had done what they could to cover up the truth behind Archibald's arctic discovery and resultant "loss of sanity and sight" and had taken some money along with Archibald's reputation. More curiously, the suits were acting nicer than Sam had had experience with. "Thank you, gentlemen. Am I correct to presume that the government's sensitivity to my needs is temporary and a form of gratitude?"

The men looked less stiff. "You have saved the country if not the world, Mr. Witwicky. Twice." 

Mission City had been a secret for only necessary ears to hear; the entire ring of men before Sam couldn't have all possibly heard the complete story. Unless the head suit speaking to Sam was fishing for a confirmation of suspicions. "Egypt was rough for all of us," Sam humbly replied instead. "I hope the NEST operatives who had fought in Giza are each receiving appropriate rewards as well, sir, and I don't exclude the Autobots from my statement." 

A bold move, but one that made the head suit's lips twitch upwards. Samuel Witwicky held no bureaucratic power, so he could shut up and go to school as was expected of him, but the head suit recognised that there was more behind Sam's "rashness" than a teenage illusion of invincibility. Loyalty. "We hope we do not have to see you again in the future," the head suit said, and the suits all nodded once before Sam was left alone with a _click!_ of the medbay door. 

The door to the classroom that Sam had made a rude first impression of himself––courtesy of the All Spark––to his physics professor didn't _click!_ when opened or closed. Professor Nielsen jumped when Sam awkwardly greeted him from across the empty room with, "The front office told me that I was to come here to learn of the school's new ground rules for me." Nielsen's eyes crinkled with an ageing smile as the grey-haired physics professor stood up and waved Sam over, who obediently approached, if a bit confused. 

"The library is obvious," Neilsen commented. "Any school property that has been damaged by the terrorist attack are off-limits to you until they are renovated; anything you need, you have the Internet for. Second," the man continued with notably more excitement, "I have requested that you and I devote an hour a day together outside of class for tutoring. They wanted to ground you to online courses for the rest of the semester before allowing you back into the classroom, but I have managed to change their mind."

"Tutoring?" Sam repeated, brows high. 

"For each other," the professor expanded, definitely excited, now. "I've given your in-class disruption from your first day at school a second, third, and even fourth thought, but I would like to hear the thoughts behind your hypotheses compared to the theories I believe in. We shall tutor 'each other,' if you will."

"You're interested in the thirteen dimension possibility?" Sam picked up. 

"I'm interested in _all_ of it, Mr. Witwicky," he confessed. "I even contacted some friends in other universities' similar departments concerning what my classroom tape recorder managed to capture of your disruption. We all agree that your rambling has elements to note. Five dimensions are imaginable, maybe, but I want to hear how you'll convince me of thirteen."

So they debated over astrophysics in the extra hour while Sam aced tests in the class hours, and Professor Nielsen was thrilled to have an all A student that he could chat about science with equally without having to ring numbers to other prestigious universities. Sam, on the other hand, unfortunately had no peer even within a phone call's reach who had experienced alien robots, because Leo had had enough excitement with the stuff of his sci-fi dreams come true, and Mikaela had followed suite. Sharsky and Fassbinder faded away in their corner of the internet and campus with their website CEO gone; when offered, they disappeared to where Leo had gone, and Sam had a lonely dorm room to himself. 

Will had been the one to break the news about Leo while Sam watched his friends' airplane leave Diego Garcia for a location he couldn't know for his and his friends' safety. "Leo Spitz was given the choice of witness protection or apprenticeship under Simmons, and he chose a civilian life."

"Mikaela was the same," Sam replied, self-protectively monotonous.

Will's lips thinned in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's my fault, too," Sam sighed. "I can't let go of the Autobots. Leading a normal life…."

"Just isn't you."

"Yeah." Sam picked at the cast for his broken fingers––a souvenir from his time in Giza. That, and a star-shaped scar on his chest that Megatron caused but that the Matrix completed. "Simmons assured me she's happy where she's going."

"The boys aren't happy about where _you're_ going," Will confessed. "'Bee especially."

"They haven't left me alone the entire time I've been in Diego Garcia," Sam fondly sighed. "I love being with the Autobots, but I'm still a college student."

" _We_ aren't happy about where you're going," Will elaborated. 

Sam gave a knowing smile, tired. "Witness protection can't protect me from Decepticons forever, and you and Epps know that, Will. Some government suits have told me about my cover story and what the government has done about the Fallen's broadcast of my social security number. I refuse to live in fear, but if I must bear some anxiety, it will be as my parents' son and not as a stranger living thousands of miles away in an unknown corner of the Earth."

Even if Sam lived under a new name and look thousands of miles away, Optimus would know how to find him. Megatron's shot should have blown Sam to bits but only stopped his heart, and that was the first sign that Sam's existence was beyond human understanding, because his destiny was beyond human life. The Matrix's spark-reviving ability only responded to Sam's touch just as the All Spark only imparted its knowledge to Sam and not Megatron despite having touched the lives of both, and Optimus and Sam worked out the reality together in heart-sharing nights in a private corner of the NEST base that Sam was apparently a human Prime; the very first. 

With the Matrix, Optimus could blast down enemies with mental concentration, and Sam could revive the dead as well as spark new life. The effort was exhausting for both of them, and it broke hearts that Sam truly did have to complete a college education instead of stay and spark life as the Autobot's new Prime, but Optimus and Sam agreed that finishing four years at Princeton was a wiser personal move for Sam in the long run. The two of them broke the news to the Autobots slowly––first to Ironhide and Ratchet, then to Bumblebee, then to the rest. Will and Epps had their suspicions while Ron and Judy Witwicky remained oblivious to Sam's status and powers as Prime, but the implications of Sam's powers and survival of an explosive shot and death were, at present, too big for humanity to handle yet, so the Autobots and Sam let Will and Epps continue to have suspicions instead of facts.


End file.
